


don't hesitate

by buckstiel



Category: Campaign (Podcast), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Polyamory, Post-Kanan, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:52:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckstiel/pseuds/buckstiel
Summary: After a mission nearly goes bad, Tryst and Bacta confront their feelings--and Leenik walks in.





	don't hesitate

**Author's Note:**

> i don't normally write smut but [shrug emoji]
> 
> title from a similarly-titled poem by mary oliver, which is perfect for mynock emotions so check it out

More than anything, Bacta wanted to say he didn’t know how he got here--half a step from Tryst, both of their faces flushed from yelling past each other, the door to the room shut. Lyn and Tamlin and Neemo gone off because of who knows what in downtown Taleucema now that the dust had settled. And he had half a mind to keep yelling at Tryst-- _Force_ was he still angry--but there was something else there too, and it was loud. It was loud and distracting and if he ended his lecture by heeding it, then Tryst wouldn’t ever listen to him again.

“We were all worried about Tamlin,” Bacta said slowly. Lowly. Tryst’s eyes darted all over his face but he tried not to notice. “It’s not a great sign that a bounty hunter was hired specifically for him. But--”

“Don’t ‘but’ me about this, I--”

“Mor Ekko was an _Anzat_. An _Anzat_ , Tryst!”

“I know!”

“They control minds! They _eat brains_ \--”

“Stop.” Tryst put his hands on Bacta’s shoulders, squeezing as hard as his spindly fingers could manage on the tense muscle. And by stars, it shut him up--that and the sober shadow that fell over Tryst’s face as he stared him dead in the eye. “I know that. I _knew_ that. I thought--I don’t know, if I faced him alone, there was going to be chance you could get the fuel and finally get to that Atilla planet, and that was what mattered, okay?”

 _Atollon, the pilot on Iloh said it was Atollon_ \--but Bacta hushed the urge to correct him. “You can’t just do that. You can’t--” He gripped Tryst’s arms by the wrist and pulled them off his shoulders, down to the space between them. “You were going to--”

“Die? Sure! To protect Tamlin, and in such a dramatic way that I couldn’t have written myself. It was perfect!” He was yelling again, but Bacta was pretty sure he had turned the volume back up first. “Why do you think I stopped by your--nevermind.”

 _Stopped by your room before I gallivanted off like a moron_ , Bacta finished silently, thinking back to it: Tryst, his head poking up into the expanded gunnery bay, crawling up without any of the usual bravado swinging around his hips; the pausing, stuttering way all of his words came out, the aborted reaches for his arm, the blush spreading around his squirming mouth.

“Were you…” Bacta said slowly, “... _trying_ to black widow yourself? Not that I’m admitting I’m a black widow,” he added.

“Wh--no! I wasn’t trying to. I just figured if I was going to die anyway…”

The something at the back of Bacta’s head was driving out the rest of his thoughts with the rushing insistence of a flood. It was loud, louder, screeching, and still without words--so he froze. His hands shook at Tryst’s wrists, which he still held.

“You can’t...do that,” Bacta said. “You can’t decide something like th--we need you _here_! I don’t know what I’d--”

Bacta didn’t know when his grip had loosened, but Tryst pulled his hands free, planted them on either side of Bacta’s face and shoved his tongue directly into his open mouth--kissing him so hard that they both stumbled back against the door, and the flood in his head rolled to a stop. This was it, this was seething under his skin the whole time. The most infuriating, confounding man in the known galaxy was the man he wanted sucking on his bottom lip, the man whose hips were the perfect angle for his hands to latch onto. Now that it was happening in real time, he could understand.

Tryst’s own hands wandered--down Bacta’s chest, up the back of his shirt and around again to his nipples, moaning obscenely into his mouth at every dip and contour he encountered under his fingers. It was all Bacta could do to stand upright, propped between him and the wall, beneath the gentle unfaltering touches and the attention he lavished on his mouth, his jawline, then down to his neck.

“T- _Tryst_ \--”

“Don’t assume I made that choice lightly,” he panted into Bacta’s pulse point, then pulling back to smirk with lips kiss-swollen and shining enough to send a bolt from his spine straight to his dick. “You were going to be the last thing I ever did.”

“You’re insufferable.” Bacta closed the distance between them, swallowing whatever follow-up Tryst had between his teeth and shoving off the smuggler’s vest as they teetered across the room toward the bunk.

Handsier, Tryst tugged at Bacta’s shirt and belt buckle, reaching around and under when they wouldn’t give way to his demands. Finally he got it over Bacta’s head, his own following soon after, and if kissing Tryst was a revelation before, feeling the heat of him against his bare chest was beyond his comprehension.

“I may be insufferable,” Tryst gasped, “but you love me for it.”

He froze--they both froze, halfway to entwining themselves back together, and for a brief, horrible moment as what he said hung in the air between them, Bacta feared some unspoken rule had been breached. He could see it reflected in Tryst’s eyes, an unfamiliar sheen of regret.

But it was only a moment.

“Yeah. I do,” he said, and kissed him again.

“Good,” Tryst managed as they both caught their breaths, “because I think I’ve been in love with you since Socorro.”

It was like he pressed a boot right onto Bacta’s chest with the way the air all rushed out of him; and through it, he fumbled at the buttons for Tryst’s trousers, and then at his own when those proved difficult, and in the tangle of their fingers together they cleared the hurdle, stepping out of each of the legs until they fell onto the mattress. Bacta straddled him, running a hand over his soft belly to the sharp corners of his hip bone until--stars, he’d seen it so many times, but seeing Tryst’s dick while it was hard and seemingly reaching up toward his hand when his own blood was electric, it was like seeing it for the first time.

“Fuck me,” Tryst whined.

“Kriff--”

“I need you inside me _right now_ , so help me Ring above.” Tryst hips twitched as he reached for Bacta’s face to kiss him again, reached for his own exposed and aching dick hanging between them and then they were both groaning past anything useful. “You know what to do, right?”

Bacta felt himself blushing redder than he already was. “Theoretically--”

“‘Cause I can walk you through it--”

“Shut up.” In Tryst’s room, the lube and condoms were of course at the top of the pile of junk in his bedside table drawer, ready to go despite themselves, and he made quick work of squirting a glob on his fingers and warming it up. “You...you sure about this?”

“If you _don’t_ stick something up my ass--”

“All right, all right!”

He tried not to pay too much attention to the little sounds Tryst was making as he worked him open--the gasps, the whines, the deep and reverberating sighs that dug his fingernails into Bacta’s shoulders. And when he finally entered him, slowly and deliberately, they could only stare wide-eyed at each other, right into the depths of each others’ pupils, the heat of flooding every ounce of them.

“Kriff,” Bacta gasped.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tryst said. “C’mon, you already feel so good, lemme have it--”

“Stars, you can’t talk like that,” Bacta said, and his hips pumped a couple times of their own accord, and all Tryst could do was grip onto his back and squeeze.

“I wouldn’t-- _kriff_ \--need to if you’d just do it already--”

Bacta snapped his hips forward and whatever Tryst was going to say broke into a squeak, a deeper dig of his nails into Bacta’s muscle, and a focused effort of sucking a bruise into the stretch of skin where his collarbone met his shoulder. “That good enough for you?”

“I need--I need--”

That was all Tryst had to say; Bacta fucked into him deep and slow, relishing in the whining delivered straight into his ear, the tense nips at his earlobes, the heat of his arms around his body and the soft tangle of hair in his hands.

This was different than it was with Vous-Vous--with her it was quick, chaotic. There were bruises long after the bite marks faded and they were too busy gasping for breath to seal any other bit of affection into the skin, and he wondered if all that wasn’t related to the roiling waves in his chest when this familiar voice under him whimpered out his name. It wound in their history, tied knots around his heartstrings. He wove his fingers with Tryst’s and pinned one arm high above his head, losing himself in the rhythm--

“Hey, did you guys know that our green tea--oh my god. _Oh my god--_ ”

Leenik stood in the open doorway, starry eyes wider than Bacta had ever seen them, and the box of tea bags he had in his hands tumbled to the floor as he scrambled to shut the door.

“Oh, hey!” Tryst said, but the strain nearly collapsed his voice under the pressure. “Well…”

Leenik tried looking anywhere but them, but he kept drifting back no matter how artistic Tryst claimed the the pin-ups on the wall actually were. The hollows of his cheeks flushed a deep, deep indigo, and his cybernetic hand started gripping at the pocket of his space-onesie as if he were nervous to stray past that general area and--there it was. His breath was labored, the front of his pants tented beyond deniability.

“I should go--”

“Wait. Stay. If you want to, I mean,” Tryst added hastily, glancing up at Bacta.

“Yeah,” Bacta said. “You can...stay, it’s fine--”

“I don’t…” Leenik feet squirmed, and his flesh-hand pulled at the front of his onesie with palpable discomfort. “I don’t need to get in the middle of all this--"

“You can just enjoy the show,” Tryst said with a wink. There was a desk in his quarters that was bound to remain unused and a chair to go along with it, and Tryst pulled a hand free from Bacta’s grip to point it out. “I’m told it’s comfortable.”

Shaking slightly, Leenik pulled the chair toward him and nudged the door shut with his foot, lowering himself into the seat with all the care he would take with a delicate and complicated lock. “It...okay,” he sighed. “You’re right, it _is_ comfortable.”

Most of Bacta’s thoughts had ground to a halt aside from what he’d hoped was a disarming, encouraging grin thrown Leenik’s way, but it was like Tryst could sense what he was trying to do--Bacta found himself pulled down into another searing kiss, his hips pumping into Tryst almost on instinct, and when he pulled his mouth from Tryst’s to catch his breath, he caught a glimpse of Leenik.

Leenik’s brow was furrowed in deep arousal tinged with distress, both of his hands knotted into the thigh fabric of his onesie, and the moan was deep. It was rumbling and low, and Bacta couldn’t help but fuck into Tryst faster. “ _Stars_ \--”

“Touch yourself.” This was Tryst. “If you’re comfortable--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bacta added helplessly.

“Wrap that cybernetic hand around your dick-- _kriff--_ ” Tryst’s voice broke as Leenik followed his exact instructions, pulling his throbbing indigo cock out from the bottom of the undone zipper. The rest of his chest was bare, the onesie falling off one of his shoulders, the entirety of his torso dappled in that blue and violet flush. “Shit--”

Slowly Leenik’s prosthetic hand slid up and down his shaft, then again, and again--and he made eye contact with the two of them, licking his lips, the stars in his eyes twinkling, and a whine building in his chest. “ _Karking hell_ \--”

All was lost.

Bacta pressed himself into Tryst, and Tryst squeezed his legs against Bacta’s ass, pulling him closer, but they only had eyes for Leenik--Leenik, groaning obscenely as he pumped himself vigorously, matching Bacta’s own rhythm, staring intently at each of them in turn until they were all lost in it.

Tryst came first, biting into Bacta’s shoulder muscle with a yelp; that pulled Leenik over the edge, spilling into his hand and the toe of his boots. The sated grin that flashed onto Leenik’s face finally whited out Bacta’s vision, made his hips twitch forward a few extra times until he collapsed across Tryst’s chest.

For a long minute, they all worked to catch their breath.

“Oh god…” Leenik muttered.

“‘Oh god’ is right,” Tryst said. “Bacta, you’re crushing me.”

“Oh--sorry, sorry--”

And they pulled themselves together--throwing shirts and trousers back on, zipping up onesies, casually leaning in to gently kiss whoever crossed their paths on the way to a missing sock or far-flung pair of underwear. (It was Tryst, mainly, reveling in how the barest of touches at Bacta’s neck or Leenik’s hip could stutter the stance of their knees.)

“Hey!”

They all froze.

“I’ve been trying to call you on the ship comms for _twenty minutes_  and--oh!” 

Leenik had thrown the door to the quarters back open in helping look for Tryst’s shirt, and down the hall, through the galley, and on towards the entrance ramp stood Lyn carrying bags of supplies. Neemo and Tamlin’s curious inquiries weren’t far behind. 

“Oh, Lyn!” Bacta said. He jumped through the doorway and hoped that his rumpled state was innocuous enough to go unnoticed. “They have everything we need?” 

She stared at him as he took one of the bags from her arms, then glancing back toward Tryst’s room. “I think so…” 

And then Tryst walked Leenik into the doorframe by his hips. Bacta felt his face blush, and it was all over.

He doubted he’d ever seen Lyn’s face light up so brightly. “Finally! _Finally!_ ”

“Finally?” Leenik called from the back. 

Lyn made her way into the galley and collapsed at the booth. “Yes, Leenik, _finally_.” 

Neemo and Tamlin filed in behind her, shoving another set of bags onto the counter--or, in Tamlin’s case, onto the floor. The curiosity and confusion bore themselves into Bacta’s face and flushed his cheeks an even deeper red. 

“What’s going on?” Tamlin said with a frown. 

“You remember what I said that night on Iloh?” Lyn said.

“Oh! Yeah!” Tamlin clasped his hands together. “You said that Uncle Bacta and Uncle Tryst and Uncle Leenik needed to... _get married_ ,” he said with two very carefully-executed winks, “or else you’d tear both of your lekku out.” He stared at Bacta, and then at Leenik and Tryst, whom Bacta could only assume hadn’t moved from their precariously intimate position. “Uncle Lyn, DID THEY GET MARRIED?” 

There was a lot about Lyntel’luroon that Bacta could appreciate: her common sense, her knowledge of the more esoteric parts of the galaxy, her deep sense of compassion even in the face of certain stupidity. She had only been a member of her crew for six weeks and already she felt like family--which explained the swoop of befuddled fury in his stomach. 

“We _what_?” he said, barely keeping himself to a whisper. 

“You heard him,” she hissed back. “That’s right, Tamlin!” she said at normal volume. “They’re married now! That calls for a celebration.” 

“PI-STEAK-CHIO SUNDAES FOR EVERYONE!”

Neemo yanked open the fridge, the pints of pi-steak-chio stocked up from Phindar Station tumbled to the ground, and they got to work--at last tugging Leenik and Tryst into the booth to sidle in beside them amid the flying spoons, jogan fruit, and globs of chocolate-steak sauce.

“So…” Tryst said, propping his chin up in his hand. “How long had you--” 

“About six hours after I met you three on Myrkr,” Lyn said matter-of-factly. 

And that was that. 

Later that night, the the six bowls waiting to be dealt with in the sink, they all retreated to their separate quarters--and then ten minutes after all the doors had clicked behind them, Tryst and Bacta and Leenik reemerged in the hall. 

“Can you believe Tamlin thinks we’re _married_?” Leenik said to his shuffling feet. 

“Hardly realistic,” Bacta muttered.

There was a beat, and then Tryst sighed loud enough to rouse the rest of the ship. “Yeah, okay. Get in here, you two. There’s room enough in my bunk for all of us.”


End file.
